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Thursday, July 24, 2014

I like monkeys; I always have. When I was in 8th
grade, I actually wanted my father to buy me a monkey as a pet. I’m too young
to remember the original movie, Planet of
the Apes but, I did grow up watching the Planet of the Apes TV show; it was one of my favorites.

So, when Rise of the
Planet of the Apes came out in 2011, I was there. I fell in love with
Caesar. So, I was kind of geeked for the sequel because it was Planet of the Apes, but I wasn’t super
excited because sequels aren’t usually as good as the original. Well, this was
not one of those times; Dawn is an
action packed, heart tugging movie that kept me entertained from beginning to end.
I had to go to the bathroom badly and I was afraid I was going to miss
something, but my bladder won, and I had to leave. But boy! You should have
seen me booking it back to my seat!

I love movies, and I critique them based on how well I
believe the unbelievable and rather or not the characters elicit emotion—good
or bad. The story seemed real to me, and there were characters that I loved as
well as ones that I hated. As I sat glued to my seat watching Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, I could
not help but find parallels between the plight of the apes in the film and
Black people all over the world—especially in the U.S. This sci-fi fantasy in
which the apes are on par with humans is a good analogy of the relationship
between an oppressed group of people and its oppressors particularly people of
color.

I don’t know when the comparison to Black people and apes
came about, but I do not that it is a universal phenomenon that’s been going on
for hundreds of years, especially now that we have an African-American
President. A Google search of President Obama and his family returns countless
images of them as apes. Former President George Bush has also been likened to
an ape, but not to the extent that Obama has, and the photos of Bush do not
include pictures of his family.

It’s no secret that Black folks have been identified with
apes in an attempt dehumanize us and justify our mistreatment in this country.
And we need to look no further than the last few months as verification of this
centuries-old foolishness. In anticipation of the Obamas’ visit to Belgium in
March, a Belgian news paper depicted Michelle and Barack Obama as monkeys. In
April, during the World Cup Soccer games, a banana was thrown at Brazilian
soccer player Dani Alves as he was about to take a corner kick. He peeled it
and ate, and later said that he appreciated having some potassium. In May, the
North Korea State news agency referred to the President as “reminiscent of a
wicked black monkey.” And another news outlet went so far as to say the
President “should live as a monkey in an African natural zoo licking bread
crumbs thrown by spectators.” Just this month, a furor erupted on social media
over the insertion of an African-American boy’s face used for a monkey T-shirt
for the Just Add A Kid brand of children’s clothes. We are strongly entrenched
in the monkey business.

And as I watched the film, the comparisons between us and
the apes was evident. Set in an apocalyptic future, Cesar and the apes are
minding their business when the humans stumble upon them. The humans need
something. And even though the apes show
up in force and tell the humans to leave, the humans decide that they will get
what they need no matter what the cost. Sound familiar? The humans think they
can and will take on the apes if necessary to secure their own needs. The
humans don’t care about the apes; the apes are an inferior species, and the
humans have resources that the apes don’t have. Even when they see for
themselves, that the apes are not as dumb as they think, the humans still
refuse to believe what’s in front of their eyes. This is the same issue that
Black people face.

There are people in the world who look at us as being
inferior in every way, and the continued use of systemic and institutionalized
racism reinforces this idea of inferiority no matter how much we are able to
move beyond our circumstances and not only survive, but thrive. Black people
are not monolithic in neither though nor action and we vary across the social
spectrum as much as any other group, and yet we are ALL defined by the most marginalized
among us. White people are not defined by violence even though most serial
killers and domestic terrorists are White, but Black people are defined by
violence because of the prevalence of violence in urban areas where many of us
reside.

I thoroughly enjoyed Dawn
of the Planet of the Apes, and I believe that there are lessons in this
film. Here are five that I learned while watching:

There is strength in numbers. When Caesar showed up with the
apes to confront the humans, there were hundreds of them. Looking at the
swarm of apes, the humans knew that the apes meant business. Solidarity is
key to bringing about change. United we stand; divided we fall. All of the
apes came together—gorillias, monkeys, orangatauns etc. They didn’t
divided themselves superficially because they knew that to the humans they
were all apes.

The world is not black and white. We look at life through a prism
that does not allow us to see the varying shades of grey of the world we
live in. A lens that sees only black and white colors our judgment and
limits our perspective. Both the apes and the humans only saw the world
from their viewpoint, and it did not give them an accurate picture of what
was happening. Their limited perspective put both groups in harm’s way.

All your skin folk ain’t your kinfolk. Both the apes and the
humans learned that just because there was a Team Apes and a Team Humans
that not all the members of their respective teams were on their side. We
always have to be mindful of those who have their own agenda. Trust should
be earned—not automatically given because we belong to the same tribe.

Different is Different. We like to think of those who are
different as better or worse instead of just accepting that they’re not
like us, and that’s ok. The humans thought that that being human
automatically made them superior which caused them to underestimate the
apes.

Doing the right thing is ALWAYS the right thing to do. We
support wrong doing out of loyalty or fear, but wrong is still wrong. Both
the apes and the humans suffered as a result of doing something for the
wrong reason. Doing the right thing is the hard thing to do, but it’s the
right thing to do.

If you haven’t seen Dawn of the
Planet of the Apes, I urge you to see it, and tell me what you think. If you’ve
already seen it, share your thoughts with me.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Flight fascinates me. Each time I fly, I am in awe of how an airplane is
crafted to give man wings. How we defied nature and learned to fly. We have
exceeded that of birds in that we can put hundreds of people aboard an airplane,
have multiple airplanes in the air at one time, and we have mastered how to do
this safely. We have created this intricate web of air travel that allows us to
traverse the globe. Think about what it takes to fly; it’s amazing! And it
speaks to the genius of mere mortals.

But Man is both brilliant and stupid at the same time. We have the intellectual
capacity to fly in the sky, but we have not figured out how to put out heads
together and get along on the ground. Why is that? How can we be so smart and so
dumb? Why do we hate and disrespect each other so much when we’re on the ground?
Why are we bearing witness to the atrocities of Man against Man? We are humans
who have lost our humanity.

Every time I fly, I notice the kaleidoscope of people moving through the airport,
hopping on and off planes. We are every race and creed on the planet. We are
young and old. We travel for business and for pleasure. We travel with family
and friends. We travel alone. We are part of the world. We are pieces of the
fabric that is our society. The pilot, the flight attendants and passengers are
all blanketed by the same prayer: to make it to our destination safely. We are not thinking about the superficial barriers that separate us.

But once we land, our differences move front and center and
start to divide ourselves. The fabric that binds us in the sky starts to fray
at the edges as we snatch and pull away from each other. We think that we are
different—better in some way. We separate ourselves into opposing teams. We
become Us and They, and whoever is not Us, is automatically They, and They (who
ever They are that’s different from Us is the enemy). And we treat them that
way.

What will it take to soar above our differences when we’re
on the ground? I wonder?